


Ulitza Roz

by VasilisaTheAngel



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, BlackIce, Developing Relationship, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Marriage, Forced Relationship, M/M, Slash, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2017-12-15 16:43:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VasilisaTheAngel/pseuds/VasilisaTheAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jack Frost is taken away from his village and every thing he knows by his country's cruel ruler, Kosmosis Pitchner, he feels nothing but hatred for the man. But Pitch had his reasons for taking the boy. Reasons quite... Unsavory...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by the song Ulitsa Roz by Aria and Marry Me by Emilie Autumn. I'd say you go listen to them, just cuz. Originally they had inspired a novel which is going to take ages to write so this then spawned off of it, just so I could use the idea anyways.

Eriwynne, a small, but beautiful country; forgotten by the rest of the world. 

Her people have had more than their fair share of hardships over the years, be it poverty, famine, or disease. Yet they would still come out fighting strong.

However, a dark shadow had cast its self over this brave land; one that made everyday life a desperate fight for survival.

Eriwynne's reigning king, Kozmotis Pitcher. Or Pitch Black as the his people called him, for the dark, evil shadow he had cast over the land once he rose to power. 

Rumours quickly spread once he rose to power as his subjects questioned what had happened to their previous ruler, Almanzo Lunar, his father. Many of the people believed that Pitch had murdered his father so that he, the first born heir, could take the throne. Others thought that their previous king had caught a deadly illness that no one had know about as the king refused to have to step down. 

Either way, no one argued with the idea that their new ruler was a cold-blooded killer. Since he had come into power, death rates were at their all time high.  
Many people found their friends and families dying from poverty, illness, or at the hand's of others that they once held close before. 

Even so, with all this death and destruction, some cities still strived. While towns and villages slowly died, the main cities thrived; having more than enough money to live out lives of luxury.

The lesser fortunate hated them for it because while they were just merely surviving in abysmal conditions while they flaunted their wealth on material objects that no one really needed.

Out of all of the poor towns and villages, one found they were in the worst conditions of all. Swrostlyn, the village located closest to Eriwynne's central cities. 

The village was considered as little more that a cheap whore house as both women and men had to rely on selling themselves to get the few coins needed for a days food. 

The other town and villages looked down on them in disgust, hating Swrotslyn's people for selling themselves and allowing the cities folk to walk all over them, while those who bought them laughed at how pathetic they were for thinking that anyone would pay more than a couple of coins when they were all so dirty and 'uncivilized', as they put it.

Recent times had been far harder on the people of Swrostlyn than ever before. They had no clue why things were happening, but they did suspect it was to do with a recent announcement; their King was going to visit.

Things like it had happened several times before in Eriwynne's history. In fact, after a particularly surprising visit, one of their previous and best queens had been a village girl herself.

However, no one expected a ruler as ruthless as Pitch to bother with his now 'lower class' subjects, especially since he had allowed them to slip so deeply into poverty. The people were also beginning to suspect that their lack of 'business', along with food and other sustenance, had something to do with this visit.

Either way, the village was still abuzz with preparations for the King's visit as they held out hope that only good things would come of it.


	2. Swrostlyn

Swrostlyn was a ruckus, with men and women dashing around trying to make themselves and their village look at least presentable, as they had just discovered that they had a little over an hour until their king was to arrive.

Parents were included in those bustling around thus chose to leave their children a member of the Frost family, one of Swrostlyn's founding families, Jack Frost. He was held with high esteem for his skills when it came to caring for and entertaining children. 

That, along with his white hair, bright blue eyes, and overall good looks also made him the most sought after man in the village. 

Not that Jack really cared about that. He found that all the attention nice at times, but he didn't overly see the point in having people all over him all the time.

The teen found he much preferred spending his time either alone or with the village's children. And as Swrostlyn was cold and snowy nearly all year round, one could be certain to find Jack and the children running round in the cold; having snowball fights, building snowmen and just doing what children do best. Having fun.

However, today was one of those rare days where the sun shone brightly and the snow had melted away, meaning that Jack had to find something else to do to distract the children. 

He'd decided on a bit of arts and craft to help with any decorations that may have been put up. He started off by getting them to make some paper chains and lanterns in the village's colour to put up outside houses and shops, knowing that they all wanted to make some contribution to making the village look pretty. 

After that had been done, he got them working on drawings and paintings. Jack himself had pretty good art skills and hoped that the children would too, as he knew a lot of them wanted to get out of the village and see more of Eriwynne in their later years, which would be very hard to do unless they had something like art to capture the interests of others and give them a chance to leave.

But the simple idea of the kids that he cared for so much being able to make something of themselves filled his heart with joy and made him push for them to be everything they could.

Jack was pulled from his musings by a young, pitchy voice calling his name.  
“Jack! Jack! Look what I painted!” One of the kids called. It was Jamie, a short, brunet boy whom Jack had grown very close to. The kid was like his protégée, he'd always had a knack for painting and sketching, and had an imagination wilder than the animals living outside of the village's borders. 

The white-haired teen smiled when he saw the kid's painting; it depicted a bright, golden palace that hovered in the air. Surrounding the palace what looked like thousands of tiny little fairies flying around, with one larger one painted in the middle.

“That's the fairy queen,” Jamie said, pointing to the large fairy in the centre of the painting, her face had a light blue tinge to it that matched her turquoise feathers. 

The fairies reminded Jack somewhat of hummingbirds, zipping around a field of flowers. It was truly beautiful just how much detail the ten year old put into the painting, it was a skill level beyond any Jack had seen before

“That's amazing kid!” He beamed, ruffling the boy's hair. “Where did you get the idea for this?”

“I dunno, I think it was from a dream...” Jamie said with a shrug, acting nonchalant over the praise he was getting, even though internally he was lapping it up like a sponge. 

All the kid's loved getting compliments, especially from Jack, so many were envious of Jamie for the attention he got for his drawings and paintings, the teen didn't quite get why though. He always made sure to pay all of them attention equally. The last thing he wanted was for one of the kids to actually get upset over it.

Suddenly, a young woman came jogging down the street to the market where Jack would sit with the kids. The teen couldn't make out who she was at first, then he recognised the messy mop of brown hair and the faint glimmer of hazel eyes. It was his sister, Mary.

“Jack! Jack!” She yelled down the street. “They're almost here!” 

The excitement in her voice was obvious. The kids hurriedly stopped what they were doing and dashed over to Mary, asking her all kind of questions about the King and his escorts.

“Did you get to see them?”

“What did they look like?”

“Is it really him?” 

Mary laughed and hushed the kids, telling them that she was sure that if they ran to the village centre they would get to be the very first to see the person who they all hoped would change their town and lives. And the children ran. 

Jack chuckled as they ran, leaving him and Mary stood alone. Neither of the teens worried about them getting lost, since everyone knew the village like the back of their hands.

“Guess we should go after them,” the white-haired teen said with a grin.

“Bet I could beat you there,” his sister challenged, smirking when a deep laugh ripped it's way out of Jack's throat.

“You're on!” And with that, the siblings broke off into a run.

By the time Jack and Mary reached the village centre, literally everyone else was already there. The siblings had called the 'race' a draw about three quarters through, both realizing they were just feeling too lazy to finish it. 

They had noticed the kids still cutting to the front of the crowds and the noise of a horse-drawn carriage in the distance. So at least they weren't too late.

“Jack! Mary! Get yourselves over here!” Their mother, yelled from near the front of the crowd and a hand shot up above the heads, waving to them. 

The two started to make their way through the people, no one overly caring that the teens were cutting through, reaching their mother just in time to see the oncoming carriage. 

It was large and black, with golden vines reaching up the sides in a elegant pattern. The horses pulling the things were large and majestic, their inky black coats glimmering in the sun. There were, for lack of better words, guards riding horses, circling the carriage in case of attack. The horses and their riders matching the carriage perfectly. Jack thought it beautiful, yet strangely daunting.

The carriage pulled up just outside the village hall, the guards stopped after it before dismounting, two of them going to open the carriage door. From the angle he was at, all Jack could see at first was the black, velvet inside of the carriage. 

And then he saw the man they had come to call their king. He was tall and pale; so pale that he looked dead. He hair was jet black and messy. The clothing was in the old military style, a custom for all royal's to wear when out in public. 

Unsurprisingly, the garments were black and gold. The colours and something about the king himself deeply unnerved Jack, something that seemed to effect him exclusively.

“Greetings, my subjects,” Pitchner boomed. “As I am sure you're all painfully aware, my family hasn't been so kind to you in the past years.” 

A small cheer rippled through the crowd. Although the people of Swrostlyn were willing to accept that this man may not be all bad, they still knew what he was capable of. What his predecessor were capable of. And deep inside all of them was a hatred waiting to come out. 

However, they were peaceful people; people who believed that, although action were better for proving one's self, words were far more damaging. They would hear the man out, then decide what they thought of him.

“I have come here, wanting to make a deal with you,” Pitchner continued. “I shall help this village thrive, I shall provide you with all the luxuries you could need; all the food, tools, money and weapons you could need to keep yourselves living comfortable-” 

A cheer rang out through the crowd and the man paused. The villager's excitement and hope obvious is their reaction, it was almost like their very souls were lifting.

“-But,” the crowd hushed instantly. “I will want something in return.”

Kosmosis Pitchner slowly walked closer towards the crowds, glancing over the masses, eyes settling of Jack for a second before flitting off again. It made the teen shudder nervously.

“I wish to pick a partner. You see, as king I'm supposed to marry but, honestly, there is no one I know aesthetically pleasing enough. And then I heard about Swrostlyn. If you allow me to find myself a bride here, then I shall give you everything your heart desires.” 

The noise went from hushed to a dead silence. It was eerie, how a just a few select words could have such a strong effect. There were a few hushed whispers, before Isaac Oleander, the head of one of Swrostlyn's founding families, stepped forwards awkwardly. He stood in front of the crowd and waved a hand to calm them down.

“Although, for many of you, this may not seem preferable... I believe it to be in our village's best interests to follow through,” He stated firmly, albeit guiltily, Pitchiner smirking in agreement. 

Another hushed murmur ran through the crowd, many people nodding their heads.

“Good,” The king said before stepping closer to the people of Swrostlyn. Again, he glances over everyone in the crowd that he could see, eyes settling on Jack for longer than the teen was comfortable with. 

“Him,” The man said at last, making the white-haired boy's heart sink. 

Jack wanted to protest, wanted to scream that it wasn't fair, that he didn't want to go with such a man but he knew it would be no use.

Pitchiner walked over to him, leaning over so their faces were mere centimetre apart. He brushes a thumb along the boy's cheek, resisting a chuckle as the intriguing boy's mother and sister held on to him closely.

Yes, he would be absolutely perfect. The man then stepped back, facing the villagers once again.

“I shall stay until moonrise, as that shall give me sufficient time to see your wonderful village and to let my new partner gather his belongings,” He stated before waving the people away and watching the crowd, along with his partner-to-be (or should he say pet?) and his family, waiting for the moment he could take the boy back with him and claim him fully.


	3. Carriage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've had this chapter written up for a while but forgot to post it for various reasons. I ended up in hospital shortly after I posted the last chapter and was there for 4 months. Also, since I got out in November, I've been swamped with collage work and Christmas and New Years and my mum's birthday and my sister's birthday.  
> Many apologies for not posting this earlier and I seriously wouldn't have remembered if it had not been for the comment I got today, asking me to update. :)

Jack sat in the carriage uncomfortably; it was big, and plush, and alien and Jack would be damned if this was how he would be travelling from now on. It wasn't only that though, it was also the man sat opposite him. The teen hadn't noticed it until now, but Pitcher's eyes were as yellow as a cat's and they bored into his very soul. It really was terrifying. Worse still, as he had lived a rather sheltered life, the white-haired boy had no clue what the man meant by needing a partner and even so the thought still terrified him.

He clutched on to the painting Jamie made mere hour ago. It was one of the only things he had to remind him of the children he cared so much about, let alone the rest of his village. God, he was going to miss Swrostlyn and even though he should be angry that he was just given to Pitchner like some kind of sacrifice, he knew how desperate their situation was getting thus couldn't find it in his heart to harbour any kind of negative feelings towards the village and it's residents.

Now, speaking of the other male, he was currently enjoying his new pet. Just watching him was entertaining, from the terrified look in his crystal blue eyes, to the way he fidgeted uncomfortable in his seat. The kid was truly adorable. And Pitchner knew that he would have no end of fun ripping him from everything he knew and twisting his perspective until he didn't even remember his mother's name. 

He would turn the boy into his own personal slave, make him the perfect little pet, so he would answer his master's every wish, no matter how humiliating or degrading it was. He would break the boy and re-build him to want no different. Just the idea of it sent shivers of excitement down the man's spine. It was sick and twisted, but nothing pleased him more.

The two sat in silence, the predator staring down his prey and the prey desperately trying to think of something to distract himself from where he was and who was sat opposite him. The only words that Jack felt he could use to describe this situation would be, terrifying, horrible and kind of awkward. He fidgeted slightly, noticing a strange glimmer in the black haired man's eyes when he did. It looked hungry. And Jack felt like he was the new favourite treat. Oh.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to break down the carriage doors and run back to Swrostlyn where he could be safe from whatever ghastly things this man wanted from him. But he knew that would do no good. The people he thought he'd known so well would probably turn him back in to their king and, if not, he was fairly sure that Pitchner have no qualms in starving him out. 

So Jack gave up.

Not fully, no, he only gave up on his want to escape. For the time being at least. The snowy haired teen slumped down in his seat and coughed, just the break the silence. He saw the way that Pitcher smirked at his actions. It gave him unpleasant shivers but there was no way in hell he would let the man see any more of his fear and discomfort. 

Maybe then he would stop looking at him with such hungry eyes. Maybe then he would leave him alone.  
“Tell me, Jack, is there something wrong? You look uncomfortable,” Apparently not.  
“I'm not used to carriages...” He murmured, hoping that the evil man would accept his answer so he didn't feel any more tempted to voice how he really felt. Telling the truth would only do more harm than good, he was certain.  
“Ah, well, I'm sure you'll grow accustom to it soon enough.” Despite that fact that he seemed to be showing care, Pitchner's voice sounded as cold and heartless as ever. It made Jack shudder.

The teen looked away from the pale man and his piercing yellow eyes, the space between them was suddenly feeling much, much smaller than before and it terrified him. The carriage ride was going to take several hours and he just knew it was going to feel so, so much longer. Jack wanted to curl up and go to sleep, just the make the trip seem shorter, but he didn't trust the man sat opposite him not to do something to him. Even if he didn't know what that something was.

He was torn, he really was. Did he curl up and go to sleep? To kill of time and hopefully regain some clarity and, since he was feeling so drained, energy too? Or did he stay awake and hopefully alert to keep a watchful eye over this sinister man? Jack tightened his grip slightly on the picture that Jamie painted for him, trying to cling onto it while being ever so careful so as to not crumple the paper.

 

Eventually, over the time span of a couple of hours, Jack slowly started to curl up, his precious picture still clutched tightly and gently in his hands. His head was starting to grow fogging and he felt completely and utterly emotionally exhausted. He felt himself dozing off into, what he would call, an unwelcomed sleep. No matter how much he needed it.

Jack didn't dream. All he could see in his mind's eye while he slept was utter darkness and, somewhere amongst this, a feint chuckling and, considering that he was asleep, he suddenly felt very self aware. He could feel how heavy his body was, feel the soft, plush carriage seat beneath him. He could feel every little movement of the carriage, no matter how small. And it was only when he felt a very big lurch, one that snapped him out of his strange, sleeping state, and nearly through him off the seat, that he knew they had arrived.

He was in Janlyn.


End file.
